


i think i wanna marry you (don't say no)

by fulmiinata



Category: Free!
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Haru is frustrated, Kissing, M/M, Makoto is a tease, Waiter!Makoto, and a good actor, chef!haru
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 03:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1924833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fulmiinata/pseuds/fulmiinata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which, Haru pretends he's marrying his waiter, and Makoto does not get paid enough for this shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i think i wanna marry you (don't say no)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cottontale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cottontale/gifts).



> psst lea's an old fart pass it on

"Nanase-san," the hostess bursts through the kitchen doors, visibly frightened. "You—your presence has been requested at table fourteen."

Haru takes his eyes off the pan of rice in his right hand, but he continues to flip it. He quirks an eyebrow. "Why?"

With a gulp Chigusa, the hostess, replies, "I... I don't know. She just demanded to see the chef, and when I told her I wasn't sure that was possible at this time, she th-threatened me! It was really scary..."

From the other side of the kitchen, the sous chef calls out, "What does this lady look like?" He turns the heat on low then rushes over to the doors, peering through the window. "Point her out to me."

Haru rolls his eyes, but joins Rin and Chigusa at the doors. "This is none of your business Rin, she asked for me. ...What table was she at?"

"Fourteen," Chigusa says, tapping her manicured finger on the plexiglass. There, a woman with long black hair sips her coffee, scrolling through her phone. The group watches her for a few seconds, until she impatiently huffs and looks towards the kitchen, causing Haru to choke and stumble back.

"What the hell's your problem, Haru?" Rin asks. He frowns at Haru.

"That's—that's my mom," Haru pushes the other two aside and bursts through the doors, practically running towards the woman at table fourteen.

One of the waiters, Seijuurou, approaches them with a tray of food in one hand. He looks out the window as well.

"What's the matter with Nanase? Why is he out looking like he saw a ghost?"

"Did you know?" Rin turns to the look at the taller redhead. "That he has a mom? Because I didn't."

Seijuurou responds with a semi confused look. "Well, a lot of people have moms, Matsuoka. It's normally assumed. What, you didn't think so?"

"Well, no. I always thought Haru just busted out of a creme brûlée or something. Never thought anyone would willingly house him in their womb."

"Sorry to disappoint you, Oniichan, but someone did," one of the cooks has sidled up next to Rin, standing in her tiptoes to get in on the action. "And it was that lady over there."

"G-Gou?!"

"Shh, I can't hear what they're talking about." The cook pats Rin's face until she finds his mouth, tightening her hand around his lips.

"Whatever it is, Nanase-san looks worried." comments Chigusa.

"What's going on?" Nitori, a saucier, asks. He too goes up to the window, a pot of Alfredo in his hands.

Rin growls at being pushed farther away from the window. Why the hell does he work in such a nosy kitchen, anyway? Literally there's no need for half of the staff to be crowded around the doors right now—there has to be some kind of rule somewhere against this.

"I can't see."

"Shhh!" Seijuurou waves him off, deeply focused on what's going on outside.

The redhead throws his hands up, sucking on his teeth and pouting.

"Um, excuse me?"

Everyone in the group stiffens, caught. Gou starts to turn around slowly, before realizing it's just Makoto the waiter and relaxes. "Ah, Makoto-san! Do you need something?" she chirps.

The brunet smiles bashfully, gesturing to the large tray laden with food on his arm. He's carrying a little table with him too, clearly ready to go out and serve someone. "Sorry, but I have to get through. You all seem very interested in what's happening out there, but my table's been waiting for a while."

Rin, Seijuurou, Chigusa, Gou and Nitori all move out of the way, apologizing and acting like they weren't just trying to spy on their boss's conversation with his mother. Makoto recognizes cheesy smiles like those, the kind that say "I'm doing something I shouldn't~ but I don't want you to find out!" He's a big brother—smiles like those are more familiar to him than his own bed.

He eases his way out the door, food precariously balanced in his hand, only to be stopped by a brief hiss of, "Oi, Makoto!"

"Yeah?"

With only his head peeking out from the doors Rin tells him, "Find out what Haru's saying over there, we wanna know." Rin nods his head over to a table by the window, where two black haired people seem to be having a heated, whispered discussion.

Makoto gives them an admonishing look, ready to say something along the lines of "Don't butt into other people's business," or maybe "Why don't you find out for yourselves," but he doesn't, because the almond bisque is getting cold and he doesn't want to risk any send backs or complaints. Instead he just continues on his way, neither agreeing nor denying.

After the door swings shut behind him Rin says, "...So is he gonna do it or not?"

"Oniichan! Shush!"

"Matsuoka-san, don't be so loud!"

"SHHHHH!"

"I'm tryna listen here, Matusoka!"

Rin looks scandalized.

"...Screw you guys."

 

"Why are you here?" is the first thing Haru asks his mother after sitting down in front of her.

Clutching a hand to her chest, Hisoka Nanase has the audacity to look insulted. She came all the way from Tokyo to visit her beloved son, as it had been almost a year since her last trip, which is exactly what she tells Haru.

In response, Haru narrows his eyes at her, although he would rather risk a good smack upside the head in favor of rolling them. He knows for a fact that his mother is not one to play the victim in any situation, nor does she ever avoid a subject. A direct and very headstrong person, she never does anything that doesn't provide some kind of advantage for her. Plenty of reason for Haru to be suspicious, really.

"I just really wanted to see you, Haruka," Hisoka adds, softly. "I wanted to know how you were doing with this whole restaurant business."

"It's going well." Haru's reply is curt. "I'm busy, so it's not like I can just sit and chat right now. You can't do this another time?"

Tired, heavy sighs greet Haru. Placing her cheek in her hand, Hisoka pushes out her bottom lip in a way Haru knows he inherited. She looks genuinely remorseful when she tells him, "I can't, Haruka. I'm only free this weekend and the next for a long time."

"Why don't you just come next weekend?" Haru's eyebrows draw downwards in a very incredulous expression.

"That's... actually the reason I came down." Hisoka laughs, nervously. She takes her hand away so she can crack her fingers.

Haru _knew_ it. There's always something else.

"We're having a big family reunion, on my side, next weekend. You _have_ to come, dear. It's a great opportunity to see all your relatives."

At the mere mention of family Haru's eye is already twitching. It's very well known that any semblance of taciturnity and reserve and _quiet_ present in him is one hundred percent from his father—his mother's family is full of loud mouthed, stubborn, opinionated, pushy, _ridiculous_ people. Really, though, it just makes his mom's name all the more ironic. Just meeting one of his aunts and a couple of cousins was enough for two lifetimes—there is absolutely no way in hell spending a weekend with the entire Watanabe family is going to end with him alive and well.

Even through Haru's obvious head-shaking, Hisoka continues to hype up the event. "It's going to be tons of fun, I promise, sweetheart," _—_ She only uses pet names when she's trying to _manipulate_ him _—_ "Everyone's meeting at your great-grandmother's house from Thursday night to Sunday morning. We'll get to talk and walk around the countryside, sightsee, bond like a real family should. Plus, your aunts are very excited—"

"No. I'm not going."

Steely gray eyes fix Haru with a stern look. "Your aunts are very excited to introduce you to your fiancé."

Had Haru been drinking something, he would've undoubtedly either spit it out or choked, hopefully to his death. He's not, you know, choking—unfortunately—but maybe his sudden heart palpitations will do the trick.

"I—don't— _fiancé?_ " he sputters, eyes wide. What fiancé? There's a fiancé? Since when? Who?

What the fuck. What the actual what—holy what the _fuck._

Haru _thinks_ he's limiting this mental breakdown to just his mind, but he's clearly not, if his mother's disapproving look is anything to go by.

"Don't act like this is such a surprise, Haruka. We told you that by the time you turn 21, you were to meet the woman you're marrying, remember?"

"I don't."

"...We told you this on your fifteenth birthday."

Oh, of _course_. Why hadn't that occurred to Haru earlier? How stupid of him to not remember a conversation he literally didn't pay attention to! Honestly, there are probably a lot of conversations Haru's missed out on during his teenage years—it was a time of great indifference and apathy for him, resulting in a lot of spacing out and questionable substances.

However, as an adult and now _owner_ of a restaurant through some miraculous events Haru realizes how stupid he was, because that indifference, apathy, and spacing out has left him in quite a pickle.

After an uncomfortably long period of silence, even for them, Haru just cards his hands through his smooth black hair and says, "I'm not getting married to her."

"Haruka, it's been arranged for years. Since you two were born. There's nothing we can do—you have to get married."

Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. Only to Haru would some shit like this happen. Why did people even arrange marriages anymore—the act is archaic, and frankly, stupid. He's only meeting this girl now; exactly when do they expect him to marry her?

"Why," It isn't a question so much as a demand for information. Haru has the sneaking suspicion that his mom wasn't the genius who came up with such an idea.

"Ah—ah, well," There she goes again, laughing nervously. "She comes from a wealthy family, and your aunts thought that it would be good for any of your future endeavors if you have connections like hers. Although it looks like you're doing just fine already..." Hisoka trails off, glancing about the restaurant.

Haru doesn't punch himself in the face purely because he's too busy trying to figure out a way to get himself out of this impendingly huge mess. He does not want to marry a stranger, or _anyone_ right now, and really does not want to trap himself with his family for four torturous days. That's a fate he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy. Rin, maybe, because he's a dick, but not his worst enemy.

"I'm not getting married to her," he repeats, frantically searching his surroundings for an escape.

And then, like fate, his eyes land upon his saving grace.

"Because you don't want to, Haruka, or because you have some valid reason not to?" Hisoka's voice is cutting, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

_Target is approaching._

With his gaze firmly set on his prey, Haru eventually replies with, "I'm not getting married to her because," _3, 2, 1—_ "Because I'm already engaged."

Like a snake, Haru's hand shoots out and locks onto the arm of none other than the waiter Makoto Tachibana. If all goes well, and Makoto cooperates with the next few steps in his plan, then Haru will have officially dodged this bullet by the skin of his teeth.

Makoto, all six feet and 1 inch of him, squeaks in a way that no one of that size should. He nearly drops the empty tray that carried the plates for his last table just now, and looks down at his boss with frightened eyes.

"Y-yes, Nanase-san?"

Pulling harshly on his sleeve, Haru makes the brunet sit down next to him at the table with a _fwump_. Makoto doesn't recognize the woman sitting with him, but he assumes this is what everyone in the kitchen was so enthralled with.

"Makoto," Haru says, "This is my mother. Mom, this is my fiancé, Makoto."

"Wh-what?!" Makoto's surprised expression matches that of Haru's mother. There has to be some mistake—what the heck is happening?

But suddenly, when Haru fixes him with a look that tells him to play along, Makoto understands.

Hisoka looks unconvinced. She raises her eyebrows. "Oh, really? Is he now?"

He straightens and smiles brightly, charmingly, in a way that he's noticed makes girls swoon. Gently he takes one of Haru's delicate, _really soft_ , hands in his larger and rougher ones.

"I-I am. It's just so hard to believe sometimes, that I'm engaged to someone as great as Haru-chan." Makoto makes sure to use his sweetest, most innocent voice, tacking on the nickname at the last second to sound as lovey-dovey as possible.

Haru's foot makes swift contact with the bone in Makoto's shin. "I thought I told you not to call me that." he mumbles, indignant.

"But isn't that your name, Haru-chan?" There's a little flicker in the taller man's green eyes as he teases the chef.

They're supposed to just be pretending, but Haru can already feel a nasty little blush pooling in his cheeks. He gulps, taking in the sight of Makoto's shaggy, sandy hair, and white button up shirt just shy of being painted on. Has he always looked like this, or did he suddenly transform into an Adonis in the millisecond it took for Haru to yank him down into his seat? Haru remembers having hired Makoto just last year when he first opened up the place, but then he was a shy, kind of lanky kid. This Makoto is not lanky, he's thick and tan —and _wow_ how often does he work out—and judging from the way his thumb is rubbing circles on the back if Haru's hand, he's not shy anymore either.

Haru pulls himself out of Makoto's grasp, the back of his neck searing hot. "A-Anyway, my mom was just talking about a family reunion up in the countryside next weekend."

"The countryside?" Makoto's down turned, kind eyebrows perk up. "That sounds really nice. Are you planning to go then, Haru?"

Such familiarity would normally irritate the actual soul out of Haru on any other day, but today he's more than thankful Makoto actually knows enough to remember and use his first name.

"Well, I was telling my mom that I would only go if you could come too," Haru glances up at Makoto through his long fringe, "...Unless you don't want to."

Makoto can't help but notice how blue Haru's eyes are right now. He's reminded of those sparkly sappy _cheesy_ scenes in his little sister's manga where the protagonist finally falls hard for their love interest, thinking about it, but they are a shade of blue that no painter could ever hope to replicate, that no photograph could ever capture.

Randomly "skimming" through that manga all those years ago may have finally come in handy, because somehow, and he can't believe he's actually doing it, Makoto musters the courage and sacrifices the dignity to tell his boss, "I'd go to the ends of the earth if it was with you, Haru."

 _Must be hot in here,_ Makoto thinks, at witnessing the unholy shade of red tinting Haru's entire body. _I'll be sure to check the thermostat later._

"So, tell me—Makoto, is it?—how did you and Haruka meet? I'm honestly very surprised he's never told me about you before." The snag in her lips suggests Hisoka is more than ready to call the both of them out on their bullshit.

"We met—"

"At culinary school." Haru cuts in. His gaze flicks back to Makoto. "When we were nineteen."

"..."

"...

"Of course, I remember you being very adamant about pursuing _that_ kind of career! Your father was disappointed to say the least, but it seems to have certainly paid off. If that's the case," Hisoka's intense gray stare fixates on Makoto. He gulps with difficulty. "Do you work with Haru in the kitchen? It looks like you're a waiter."

His mother's statement makes Haru vaguely remember the time he tried to insist that _no,_ he was _not_ feeding the stray dog outside their house and the whole reason why it hasn't left yet, but was quickly shut down by her quick observations concerning the beef mysteriously missing from the fridge and the hair clinging to his shorts. From then on, lying to her and getting away with it was considered to be something of an impossible feat. Hopefully Makoto is not a lesser man than he, or they're fucked.

There's a small bead if sweat that's collected at Makoto's hairline. With his index finger he wipes it away, saying, "I'm more of a baker than a chef, and even then I'm nothing compared to Haru-chan. Right now I'm actually taking online classes so I can apply for veterinary school soon."

Is that last part the truth, or is it the most creative lie ever told on such short notice? It's somewhat shameful of Haru to not be able to tell the difference, since Makoto has been working here almost a year now and he barely knows anything about him after his last name.

Hisoka's face softens, the lines of disbelief in her face not as harsh. "That's very nice. Alright, now tell me: who proposed?"

She leans forward, elbows in the table and chin propped in her hands.

"Haru did!" Makoto chirps, almost too readily. When he glances at Haru to gauge his reaction, there's a strange glint in his eyes Haru doesn't think he likes.

Working at the restaurant is great, really, but there's been a few moments that haven't been so pleseant. When Makoto prepares the proposal story he's about to spew to Haru's mother, he keeps the memory of Haru demanding Makoto scrub a dish at least six times because it wasn't as close to godliness as he'd like, along with the time he'd bumped into the taller man and smashed red velvet cake all up into his shirt, with the only consolation being a "Whoops." at the forefront of his brain. 

So he only slightly feels bad when he describes the painstakingly hand crafted little box decorated with teeny tiny pictures of Haru and filled to the brim with delicate hand cut confetti that the chef had presented to him just shy of their one year anniversary. With every word that escapes his mouth Haru is cringing, horrified that Makoto is telling such embarassing, ridiculous lies about him.

"—The most beautiful thing you'd ever seen, and when the little confetti finally cleared, in the box there was—"

"Absolutely nothing." Hisoka sharply turns her head towards Haru. Makoto is left with his mouth open, thick eyebrows slightly raised.

Narrowing his eyes at Makoto, Haru continues, "There wasn't anything in the... _the box_ , because I had the ring in my hand. I got down on one knee, asked the question, and he said yes. The end."

The table shifts, coffee cup clattering when Haru suddenly stands up, hand circled around Makoto's _(wow really firm)_ bicep to drag him to his feet as well.

"Anyways. I have to get back to the kitchen. It was nice seeing you—goodbye." Haru is practically kicking his mother out of the restaurant, absolutely determined to get her out of here as fast as possible before she questions any more or finds some kind of chink in his and Makoto's fake relationship armor.

Literally, Hisoka's maybe one step from _leaving_ when she turns around to finally drop the bomb.

"So, are you two lovebirds coming to the reunion?"

Oh, there go the heart palpitations again. The breath has caught in Haru's chest, like someone just punched him in the stomach. Actually, that almost seems like it would be more enjoyable than this entire day has been.

Makoto's delighted reply of, "Of course!" sends Haru into an inescapable pit of his own personal hell.

"Perfect! I'll see you boys then! And what, no kiss?"

Something tells Haru that Hisoka still isn't buying their act.

Also, why is Makoto suddenly doing all the talking? This was a fake relationship that _Haru_ had instigated. He waves off Hisoka's offer of public displays of affection to tell her that Haru will be rewarded much, much, later, which insinuates something a little more lewd than Haru would like.

Strangely enough, he doesn't protest, opting instead to burn a deep red and punch Makoto in the arm. The brunet chuckles, wincing slightly at the impact. Both of them wave at Haru's mother from outside the restaurant as she walks down the street, turning a corner, until she's out of sight.

A few seconds of silence sit between them, until—

"So when were you going to tell me about the engagement, Nanase-san?" Makoto teases, eyebrow arching high on his forehead. He cocks his head to the side, thick fringe falling just slightly into his eyes, enough to drive Haru crazy.

"I don't want to talk about it." Haru says with a sense of finality. The color in his face has dissipated slightly, resting mostly on his cheekbones and the tips of his ears.

"Really now?" Makoto steps in front of Haru, tilting his head downwards to meet his eyes. "Because I'd like to."

His breath is warm on Haru's face, and he smells _really_ good. Briefly Haru wonders if Makoto actually does bake, because his scent is sweet and sugary, like caramel, but there's a spice hidden behind it. It reminds him of molasses cookies.

The feeling of Makoto pressing warm, smooth lips against Haru's makes him forgot those thoughts, or that he's even capable of having thoughts. His entire mind has gone blank, and all he can do is press back almost eagerly.

_Makoto probably uses chapstick religiously._

Makoto's large hands run down the sides of Haru's lean body, stopping to settle at the slight curve of his hips. He separates first, taking the other's bottom lip between his teeth and tugging at it gently. With a smile he leans back in, mouth very close to Haru's ear.

"That's your reward," he whispers, a lilt in his husky voice.

Goosebumps rise along Haru's face and arms, and he swallows thickly. He glares at Makoto through his eyelashes, weakly. Threading his hands through Makoto's brown sugar hair, Haru says, " _I'm_ the boss."

"But _I'm_ the fiancé." Much to Haru's chagrin, Makoto pulls away, already walking to the resturant's entrance. He winks at Haru. "Let's do this again—we're going to need to practice for next weekend."

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday to cottontale! This is a present for her, because she's a really rad friend and a great person I had the pleasure of meeting this year! I'm sorry I couldn't write you something better, but I'm a huge bag of trash (´･_･`)
> 
> I hope your birthday is swaggin' and all the kisses & hugs in the world ♡♡♡


End file.
